Extinguished
by Skarla
Summary: A little ficlet, some Ed/Alfons interaction.  No pairings, non-graphic character death, but if you've seen the film then it isn't a surprise.


Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. This is not for profit work procrastination, nothing more.

Not sure what possessed me... I was bored at work, and I had a few sneaky writing sessions. Set during the film, even though I didn't really like the film after FMA brotherhood came out and the ending was so much better.

The bear, the zebra and the giraffe all sat around a hollow log, waiting. It was nearly sundown and they wanted very much to go back to their homes. The bear had a nice cave waiting for him, dark and dry. The floor he had covered with dry leaves, and there was a tree with drooping branches by the entrance to hide it. The zebra had a hollow in the grass. When he lay down in it the spiky yellow and green leaves towered over his head, and no other animal had a chance of spotting him. The giraffe had a favourite grove of trees. He liked to stand in the exact middle, so that all the rest of the animals could see of him were the two stubby horns on top of his head.

As the edge of the sun dipped below the horizon, the crocodile crawled up from the murky pool where he had made his home.

"Sorry I'm late," he croaked.

The other animals eyed him nervously and did not reply.

The crocodile's grin seemed to grow even wider. "Let's begin."

"This is stupid."

"No it isn't. Shut up and listen to the story."

"You don't get bears in Africa!"

"Who said that this was set in Africa? It could be set in the London Zoo for all you know."

"How are a group of animals in the London Zoo, all neatly confined in their separate cages, all going to sit around a log for a discussion?"

"You have no imagination."

"I like my stories to be realistic, there's a difference."

"Would you rather have a different story?"

"I'm still baffled as to why you are telling me stories at all."

"You're sick."

"So you feel it necessary to torture me?"

"My mother always told me stories when I was sick. So I'm telling you a story."

"Well, I'd rather you didn't make one up. Why don't you tell me more stories about what you got up to with your brother?"

"Because I don't want to think about him today."

"Ed, you think about him every day."

Alfons grimaced as Ed turned away. That had come out a lot harsher than he had intended. Silence filled the room as the blond spent several long minutes watching the raindrops spatter against the window.

"I'll go make you some soup," Ed said eventually. Alfons mutely watched him leave the room, shoulders slumped. He didn't bother asking what Ed planned to make soup from; he knew that the shorter man would come up with something edible. He was probably the only one that could manage it in their sorry excuse for a kitchen.

The soup, when it arrived, had lentils and potatoes in it, which did not surprise him. The bacon did, however. "Where on earth did you get bacon from?" he demanded, spoon dropping back into the bowl as the flavour registered.

"I went downstairs to the shop and helped close up and sweep," Ed admitted. "You're sick, you need proper food."

"Ed, I..." once again Alfons found that he couldn't say the words. Could barely admit them to himself, let alone bring himself to say them out loud and extinguish the determined hope in Ed's eyes.

"I have to go do the washing up!" Ed announced, turning briskly on his heel and practically running out of the door.

"Make sure you eat something yourself!" Alfons called after him, the unsaid words twisting in his brain.

"_I'm going to die."_

It was strange, that his mind had chosen that memory out of the many to dwell on as the life left his body through the small, burning holes in his side. He had thought that his cough would kill him, but he had been wrong. It had been small, hot pieces of metal that ripped through his pale skin and fragile bones, shattering everything in their path until the red blood that he caught in his palm every day spilled across the hard metal floor.

The strange circle of mist and lightning in the ceiling began to pulse again, and he watched as the broken remnants of the airship crashed back down onto the floor and Ed climbed out of it, his flame bright hair caused slight halos in Alfon's fast blurring vision.

His heart beat a little faster in shock as his younger twin climbed out of a twisted suit of armour, a childish version of his own voice scolding and high pitched, and the red blood flowed a little faster from the holes in his skin.

He finally realised why Ed looked at him out of the corner of his eye sometimes, with an expression of such longing and guilt on his face.

Alfons smiled. It was time to go; his duty as understudy was over. The lead had finally arrived.


End file.
